I Am Heather Poem by Stephanie Starr

He calls me Heather
Though my name is not close to that
I don’t know he’s talking to me
Until I meet his eyes
But I won’t answer to his calls
He calls me Heather
So I tell him he’d better
Get it right or he won’t speak no more
He smiles and says score!
And I am left to wonder if he means much at all
I hear calls of Heather
Across the hall in the caf
I want to resist, to ignore those false claims
But who am I to deny they are calling for me?
I waltz in and who do I see?
Standing on a table precariously
The one who’s name I can’t remember
And yet he remembers mine all too well
I look around
And see the stomping of feet
To a well-timed beat
Of Heath-er! Heath-er!
Am I her? Am I here?
They know me by a name
I am not known by
People who know the real me
Seem to have forgotten
And I’m furious
He takes away my right to display
My own name to the world
He grins down at me
Glad you could come he says
All at once I’m stunned
He leans down and whispers in my ear
I know who you are, deep down, right here
In that heart of yours
And your name does not match
That soul of yours
So try this on for size
Please? I won’t let you hide
Behind such a name. Such a tame name.
He’s right, in a way
For on that day
I lost all that I was
And became Heather. For the better.